


Fall in Flame

by onthewaters



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-13
Updated: 2011-05-13
Packaged: 2017-10-19 08:52:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/199075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onthewaters/pseuds/onthewaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Lucifer fell, he fell in flame. So did Castiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fall in Flame

**Author's Note:**

> ***
> 
> If you consider posting this work to Goodreads: Please do not do it. These stories are fanfiction, and I don't want them near a site that's primarily for published original fiction.
> 
> While I appreciate that you might enjoy having them on your Goodreads shelves, please respect my wishes.
> 
> Thank you.

When Lucifer fell, he fell in flame.

Castiel remembered it. He remembered Lucifer's arguments, his impassioned demand for comprehension, for understanding that the angels were less than the humans to God and that God's first creation was as worthy, no, even more so, than these pathetic things playing with offal in the mud. He remembered the hurt in Lucifer's shoulders and the way his voice broke when he begged their Father to say that he loved them still and did not love the humans more. He remembered that God was silent and that this was the moment when Lucifer's face crumpled and his love for their Father died.

Castiel remembered Lucifer drawing back, gathering the shreds of his dignity to himself. He remembered that the world changed in that moment when Lucifer nodded and turned away. He does not know to this day what Lucifer expected to happen but he is certain that it was not this:

Lucifer turned his back on God in anger and Heaven darkened. Lucifer swept his brothers out of his way and a gaping chasm opened under his feet. Lucifer cried out in fury and the chasm swallowed him.

Dozens of his brothers threw themselves after him, attempting to break his fall. It was futile and they knew it even then, but they would not let him fall alone.

Lucifer fell in flame, igniting the skies, buffeted by storm. He fell through clouds and past mountains, the hard ground of earth looming ever closer. Castiel thought he must have felt pain at the impact and the thought disquieted him. He did not wish his brother to suffer, despite his hubris.

Castiel knew why Lucifer fell, of course. All of his brothers did.

Lucifer fell because he put himself before God, before God's plan and God's instructions, before the Heavenly Order. He wished to raise himself above the Heavenly Order and so he became the Devil.

He was the first to fall, and his fall broke their Father's heart.

***

Castiel fell because he put Dean Winchester before God, before God's plan and God's instructions, before the Heavenly Order. He wished to keep Dean safe even though the Heavenly Order demanded otherwise and so he became human.

He hadn't seen it coming.

He returned to Heaven as he always did when he left Dean and Sam. It was an ordinary day and an ordinary task he had carried out. One that Zachariah would not be pleased with. Likely, Castiel would be punished. He had resigned himself to it.

Still, there should not have been darkness in Heaven. But dark it was.

Zachariah stood before him, frowning. "Castiel."

"Zachariah."

"You have disobeyed. Again."

Castiel lowered his eyes. "It was necessary."

Zachariah did not answer. Castiel felt other angels draw nearer, silent but present. He did not lift his eyes; no matter what punishment Zachariah would choose to mete out, he would endure it. And next time, provided he was left in such a shape that would permit it, he would again disobey if Dean required it.

Zachariah gripped him by the chin and forced Castiel to look him in the eye. "Castiel. It was disobedience."

Yes, it had been. But that did not matter. Dean mattered. "I regret the necessity." His brothers murmured about him. Zachariah released him and again Castiel lowered his eyes. "I understand that punishment is in order. I submit to it willingly."

Zachariah had many ways to show that he was displeased. Castiel had taken his punishment before, and he knew he could endure it again. This time, he would not doubt Dean.

But instead of the censure he expected, his brothers withdrew, leaving him in a widening circle with Zachariah. He felt their unease, their disturbance. Heaven seemed darker still.

Zachariah finally spoke again, urgently. "Castiel. The goal of punishment is deterrence. What must I do to show you that you cannot disobey, especially not for Dean Winchester?"

Castiel looked at him, seeing both Zachariah's vessel and his true form interposed over one another, terrible and mighty. He bowed. "There is nothing that you can do. That anyone can do. I will continue to assist Dean."

Zachariah stepped back, leaving Castiel alone in the circle of angels. "It is against God's will."

"You do not know that," said Castiel. "God has not made His will plain in two thousand years."

"It is against the Heavenly Order," Zachariah said and the choir of angels around Castiel agreed. "Our Father has set down the Heavenly Order and we must obey it. From Archangel down to the least little cherub. It is as God has commanded it. You raised Dean Winchester from perdition because God commanded it. Why do you now doubt His will?"

 _Because Dean has shown me that there are more important things than the Heavenly Order,_ Castiel could have said. _Because these humans who played with dead fish and tried to eat one another have grown so much that it would be cruel to cut them down. Because they do not wish to die and this wish should be respected. Because while angels were created to worship and love God, humans were created to do as they choose and when they choose to love, it is a thing more glorious than any angel's love._

Castiel opened his mouth to say these things, all these things, but he did not get the chance.

The angels drew back even further, the circle around him widening. He could no longer see Zachariah amongst the throng. The ground beneath his feet opened and when Castiel looked down, he thought that this must have been what Lucifer felt so long ago, that moment when his wings no longer held him, his grace no longer sustained him, Heaven no longer welcomed him.

He looked up to his brothers and heard their voices, begging him to reconsider, to retract his apostasy, to understand that it was not yet too late. To put his faith in God their Father.

Castiel wavered. But he had never seen the face of God, let alone gripped his shoulder. He had never shielded God from torment or gentled His dreams. He had never watched emotion play on God's even features and he had never been fascinated by a sweet smile or a twitch of an amused eyebrow on God's face. God had never looked at him in fear and still demanded that Castiel take Him instead of His daughter. He had never been made to feel annoyed or infuriated at God. He had never smelled God's breath or His sweat. God had never bitched him out and He had never thanked Castiel for anything, let alone with a handshake and such heartfelt gratitude that it humbled Castiel. God had never begged for help in order to save His brother.

God had never given Castiel an irreverent nickname.

The ground gave and Castiel fell.

He fell in flame.

***

Impact was, as he had suspected so long ago, painful. He had come down in an untilled field and the field was now a crater. His body had crumpled up in it on its own volition, every movement agony, and every sensation confusion. It was different from being an angel in a human vessel. Then, stimuli had been filtered through Jimmy Novak's senses. They had been softened, weakened, eased, gentled. Now, Castiel felt everything. He felt rocks digging into his hip, grasses tickling his neck, water wetting his clothing, wind tousling his hair. The environment affecting his body. His body.

His aching, thirsty, hungry body. Castiel had not needed to eat when he was still possessing his vessel and thus had not. But his body cried out for sustenance now and Castiel began to suspect that it would not be pleased to be denied.

He was able to stand at least, and to look around. Noise from the west indicated that there was some kind of road there. He stumbled in that direction and found within mere meters that he had to take off the trenchcoat. He felt the heat on his skin, sinking through his flesh into his bones. It was not an unpleasant sensation, really. Castiel decided he liked warmth.

Six hours later, when his first two attempts at hitchhiking went embarrassingly badly and the third turned into a sing-along of appallingly rude songs, Castiel found that he liked the cool as well. This epiphany came in the restroom of a gas station in rural Wyoming with cold water on his heated brow and on the inside of his forearms. He had seen humans do this millions of times but he was only realizing now how good it felt, how pleasurable coolness was and how sweetly water tickled on his skin.

This revelation was followed by another: despite not having received sustenance, his body wished to eliminate waste. Castiel felt somewhat less than blasé about this, but it was part of being human and there would be no getting around it.

The experience itself was less of a nuisance than he anticipated and the feeling of relief left him accepting of this new necessity. Though he was confident that he would enjoy the next project - eating and drinking - somewhat more.

An inventory of his pockets (his now; Jimmy's soul had been torn from him as he had fallen and Castiel could but hope that he would find his Heaven and his just rewards for his sacrifices) resulted at first in confusion, then in amusement. Apart from some loose dollar bills and assorted odds and ends, he found a plastic wallet with two hundred dollars, a passport picture of Dean framed with a heart, and a Singer's Salvage business card. Scrawled across the back were the words "If lost, return home".

Castiel held the wallet in his hands, smiling at Sam Winchester's untidy writing in what he suspected was a foolish way. He tried to imagine what his brothers would have done to help him find his way to them.

He carefully put the wallet into the inside pocket of the trenchcoat, closing the button so that it could not fall out. At the gas station he bought a bottle of water and snacks at random, then allowed himself to be picked up by the next trucker willing to take a hitchhiker along to Cheyenne, Wyoming.

The road to South Dakota was long and tiring, and Castiel took another page from the book of the Winchesters: when he was too tired to go on, he rented a motel room with the cash from the wallet, took his first shower and lay naked under thin cotton sheets and quilts smelling of laundry detergent. He slept.

Dreams, too, were different when they were one's own. Dean's dreams, he had always nudged away from Hell and dying family, to places so peaceful that they could not bring Dean pain. His own now, he could not control.

He dreamed of his fall, of being tossed this way and that by the storm. He dreamed of his grace being ripped away by the gravity wind, of his wings being torn away feather by feather until there was nothing left of them. He dreamed of desperately trying to cushion Jimmy Novak's sleeping soul until he could do so no longer and it was pulled from his hold. He dreamed of his presence in the vessel being tightened, dense and all-fulfilling, of being fused to the body until it was his because he was the body. He dreamed of the burning all around him, of setting fire to the clouds as he fell through them. But he did not dream of hitting the ground, for just as he did, he woke.

Dreams were difficult, Castiel thought and understood a little better why Dean always drank before going to sleep.

He reached Sioux Falls in the afternoon of the following day, tired and able to smell himself, an oddly unpleasant experience which left him with a new understanding of why clean clothes were so important to humans. Still, should one's own smell not be pleasant? It seemed like an unsatisfactory arrangement.

Getting to Bobby Singer's salvage yard took some more time and when he finally knocked on the door, there was no answer.

Castiel was unsettled. His feet hurt, he was tired and had learned about disgust today. He only had one bottle of water left. He wanted to be with his friends, and now they weren't here?

His own annoyance surprised him. There was no reason why Bobby or the Winchesters should have known he was coming here. He had not called them on the phone. Castiel frowned to himself. That was a rather silly oversight, considering they were hunters and not always at home. He supposed he would have to find a phone as well. And learn how to use it.

Since the house was locked up tight, Castiel found a corner of the salvage yard to rest and again found himself asleep within moment.

This time, he dreamed of the smell of oil, the screech of metal on metal, and the blurriness of petrol in the air. He dreamed of sweat not his own, of smears of oil on skin and an open smile, of warm eyes and strong arms. This dream was much better than the first one and when he woke, Castiel found himself wishing that he could have dreamed it for a little while longer.

He settled on the steps to the front door to wait. But the day passed and it was warm and Castiel fell asleep watching dust motes dance in the sunlight.

This time, he dreamed of a hand in his and resting with a chest pressed against his back. He dreamed of hair tickling against his skin and finally of a voice.

"Cas? Cas! Christ, are you hurt?"

Castiel blinked himself awake and found himself surrounded by Dean, Sam, and Bobby. They looked worried. Not a dream after all then.

He shifted and stretched which he had found helped after being in one position for some time. Dean took a step back, muttering, "Whoa." Sam looked as if Castiel was a puzzle to be solved. Bobby said nothing, and his face gave nothing away.

Castiel smiled. "No, I am not hurt."

Dean looked freaked out. "Then - what happened? You fell asleep on Bobby's porch?"

"Yes." Castiel stood up. "I've been waiting for you."

Sam opened his mouth, hesitated, and then seemed to change his mind about what to say. "Cas. Are you okay?"

Castiel wasn't sure how to answer that. "Sam -"

"He's human," said Bobby. The brothers Winchester turned to him, eyes wide. "Aren't you? You don't have any angel in you anymore."

"No," Castiel said. "You're right. I'm human. All the way."

The expression on Dean's face shifted as Castiel watched. There seemed to be a lot of different feelings there. For him. Yet Dean did not seem to have words. Castiel felt honored.

Sam shook his head. "But Cas, what happened? Did you rip your grace out like Anna? Why?"

"No," said Castiel to Sam, although he could not seem to tear his eyes away from Dean. "Not like Anna. Anna wanted to fall. I didn't know I would until it happened. But it had to, I know that now. You see. I found something that was more important to me than God."

Dean swallowed, an almost-panic alighting in his eyes. Castiel could not bear to look away. Dean's face was haloed by the dust and the rays of the sun. Castiel tried to imagine seeing God like this and could not. But Dean was here, finally, and Castiel did not wish to wait any longer.

He lifted his arm and cupped Dean's face with his hand, his own hand. Dean jerked, but did not pull away.

Castiel smiled at him. Dean's cheek was soft against the tips of his fingers and rough against the ball of his thumb where the beard stubble touched Castiel's skin. It was slightly sweaty and dusty, and Castiel could have stayed like this forever. He let his hand sink, fingertips brushing against Dean's stubble, catching at his collar, sliding down the cotton of his shirt down to where Castiel's handprint was burned into Dean's skin. He let his hand cover it and drew closer to Dean who still hadn't moved. But Castiel could feel the tremor under his hand.

"Dean," he said.

Dean twitched back, like a skittish horse, shuddering against Castiel's hand. "Cas, this, this is not -" He faltered and fell silent as Castiel grasped his left hand, feeling calluses and scars slide against the soft skin of his palm. Castiel drew it up, registering absently that Sam and Bobby were moving away.

"Yes, Dean." It was a good hand, a strong hand. Blunt fingers, short nails. The skin over the knuckles was thicker than elsewhere and Castiel's thumb caught at the roughness there. "Dean. I fell because there is something more important than God."

"No, I can't -" But Dean wasn't pulling away, watching Castiel watch his hand. He looked hungry. Desirous.

"You can." Castiel inched closer, caught up in Dean. "You can. And I can, too." He shifted Dean's hand so it cupped his head, then pulled Dean's right around his waist. "Since I fell, I've felt so much. I know now about heat, and why to take off my coat. About the way cold water feels, and I've learned to sleep and dream. I fell for you, Dean. It was all for you."

"Cas." Dean choked, started again. "Cas, don't put that on me. I can't be responsible that an angel fell." But his hands didn't move; he held Castiel like a precious thing.

Castiel smiled. "You aren't. You are yourself, and I love you for yourself, and I love you more than I love God. Every stain and scar. Every angry word and blow. All your fears and self-loathing. I know them all. I gripped you tight and raised you from perdition and I know you down to your core. There is nothing you can do or say or be to make me stop loving you."

Dean's hands clenched. "After everything I've done? Really?"

Castiel breathed in his scent of oil and dust and beer. "Because of everything. It's only after pain and tempering that you become strong, you humans. Well," he added contemplatively. "We humans do."

Dean rested his forehead against Castiel's. "So I'm out a guardian angel?"

"Yes. I'm human. There is much I can no longer do."

"Well." Dean's arms tightened around Castiel. "I can show you how to do it our way."

"Yes," said Castiel.

 

~Fin~

**Author's Note:**

> With Castiel, it's for Dean. Everything is for Dean. So...


End file.
